My Name Is Yasha Romanov
by ShunKickShunKers
Summary: Sirius found baby Harry first and asked the Black Widow to keep an eye on him while he dealt with Peter. Unfortunately, he never came back and Harry Potter disappeared from the wizardly world. Ten years later, Yasha Romanov receives a letter from Howgarts...Rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Writing this should not be on my agenda, but it wouldn't leave my mind so out with it ^^". **

**I don't own Harry Potter or the Avengers (too bad :P) and also, un beta-ed work, so all misspellings and typos are mine. Enjoy :) -won't blame you if you don't ^^**

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**Chap 1**

Sirius glanced nervously around him. The Italian café was slowly gathering people in the early morning and he was starting to attract attention thanks to the baby basket lying at his feet. Little Harry was quiet –had been since they had taken off from Goldric's Hollow, which was a blessing –but who knew how long he would be? Sirius had little experience with babies, and even Lily's attempts to take care of him had…

He felt a surge of anger and sadness surface again, but ruefully pushed them back. The person he was meeting today would spot any sign of weakness, and wouldn't mind pushing every button to set him off. So he buried his grief and sadness, buried and locked them tight in a safe in the corner of his mind. If he managed to convince _her_ to take in Harry, he would have one thing less to worry about.

"Why am I here?"

Sirius nearly jumped out of his skin. The seat that had been empty seconds ago was now occupied by a stunning young woman, casually dressed in jeans and T-shirt. Her red vibrant hair seemed to glow in the light and her large sunglasses covered a good part of her face. She had been a blonde when he had last seen her, but Sirius was positive this was the spy named Natalia Romanova. He felt a light pang in his chest as he remembered the woman she had been back then. Or rather, the façade she had showed him –she had shown them –at the time. He had thought himself in love with that façade, until he realized who she really was. Even then, he couldn't help but admire her.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice" he said instead, forcing himself to focus on his goal. "Could you please remove your sunglasses first?"

Natalia sighed in annoyance but complied. Sirius nearly gasped in surprise: although her hair had changed –and granted it had been five years or so –but the redhead still looked in her late teens, early twenties, her face untouched by time.

She hadn't been kidding when she had told them she aged slowly.

"What do you want, Black?" the spy asked again, dryly.

Focus, he thought. It would do no good to let her take the upper hand of the conversation, even though he was pretty much at her mercy. He wordlessly pulled up the baby basket on his knees and watched with semi amusement as she stared at it as if it was a ticking bomb.

"This is Harry. He is Lily and James Potter's son. Unless I am mistaken, James, Lily and I helped you out of some serious jam last time. You told us yourself you were _indebted_ to us."

"They're dead and you want me to keep an eye on that kid." She said blankly, her eyes and expressions unreadable. Sirius assumed she guessed his friends' death by the fact he showed up alone and, he had to admit, in a poor state of dress. Still, he nodded, glad she was sharp.

"Just for a couple months. I need to take care of something" rather some_one_, he thought grimly. "Then we'll both be out of your hair. Debt repaired and everything."

Natalia's eyes narrowed, her incrusting gaze checking each and every moves of his. Her attitude reminded him of a snake, searching for a weakness before deciding whether to strike or not. Her decision would be made in a split second and he'd have to take every advantage he could from that.

"Two months" she suddenly declared. "I'll give you two months to do what you have to do. I'll meet you here with the boy and if you're not, I'll send him in an orphanage."

Sirius tensed. Two months were reasonable enough to return to England, take care of Peter and make the necessary arrangements for the future, but he didn't like the way she suggested he could fail. He would not fail. He could _not_ afford to fail. Harry needed him, he was so young…Natalia went on, uncaring of the thoughts running through his mind:

"And since you look so concerned about his safety, his name will be changed too. The moment you hand him over to me, 'Harry Potter' is no more. He will be Yakov Romanov."

_Yakov_ was the equivalent for James; Sirius remembered she had told them back then. Fine, perhaps he wasn't doing a mistake confiding Harry to the former Russian spy. She wasn't _that_ bad; maybe she just hated being indebted to someone.

"Do I have a payment for this?" she asked, but it felt more like a demand.

Sirius wondered if she was tight on budget since she had gone freelance. A few galleons would do the trick, after all gold was valuable in the muggle world and he was pretty sure they'd cover all the expenses she needed for the next two months. He pulled out the seven he carried on him and handed them to her. Natalia pocketed them after a quick examination. She then took the baby basket and slowly, as to not wake up Harry, held it tight to her chest.

"I'll see you in two months. Same time same place. If you're over fifteen minutes late…" her voice trailed off and Sirius nodded in agreement. Before she could turn away though, he added:

"It goes without saying, but take care of the little guy. He hasn't asked for any of this."

Natalia sent him an impassive stare.

"I don't hurt children, Black. I owed Potter a debt so don't worry, Yakov's safe with me."

A blink of the eye later and she had vanished. Sirius inhaled sharply, praying he hadn't made the biggest mistake of his life. He suddenly stood up, dropped muggle money to pay his coffee and stormed off to his bike, ready to return to England and ensure Harry would never had to fear for the future.

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_Ten years later, Howgarts, Headmaster's office_

Another year was starting at Howgarts, and it was usually a good reason for celebration but Dumbledore felt particularly depressed. Nearly ten years ago, the Potters had been decimated, leaving their son orphaned and on his own. He had urged Hagrid to retrieve the boy, but the half-giant had been too late. Sirius Black had gone ahead and picked up the baby and, to Dumbledore's greatest dismay, vanished for a week. When Sirius had finally resurfaced, he had been alone and out for blood. Under two days, he had avoided and evaded them, had cornered one of his friends, Peter, and had killed him along with twelve other muggles. The reason for his suddenly bloodlust? Peter had betrayed the Potters, or so he said. When questioned about Harry, Sirius had claimed having put his godson into safety. But not once he had agreed to speak about his location.

Dumbledore laid back in his seat and closed his eyes. He remembered all too well the interrogation the young Black had gone through after his arrest…

_The man stood silent and glaring at everyone in the room, the hate and disdain evident in his eyes. His hands and feet might have been restrained, but he appeared more dangerous than ever. Aurors and members of the Order were there, but none appeared too eager to get close to the murderer without backup._

"_I didn't kill the Potters" Sirius spit angrily. "Peter Pettigrow is still alive and lurking! There's another spy among you!" _

_Dumbledore stood feet away from him. He crouched to be at his level and asked again:_

"_We found a finger, which was all left from him. Sirius, if you truly are on the side of the light, you need to tell me, where is Harry?" _

"_If he comes back here, he'll be in danger!" the man kept repeating desperately. "I can't allow it, not until you find the mole!" _

"_He will be safe, I assure you." Dumbledore replied calmly. "Please Sirius, be reasonable…"_

"_I am his godfather! His safety is my priority!" _

"_You just dumped him to You-Know-Who's followers!" one of the Aurors in the background howled. "You bloody traitor!" _

_The words seemed to infuriate Sirius even more and consolidate his determination._

"_Fuck you!" he yelled back. "You are just a bunch of blind bloody fools! I'll never say where he is! You'll never find him!" _

"_Siri-" Dumbledore started. The man interrupted him with a glare:_

"_And you, Albus, are the biggest fool of all."_

_And then, Black laughed hysterically. _

Sirius had been right on one point; Harry had never been found. They had tried every connection the man had, used many resources, followed an endless number of trails to no avail. He sighed deeply, feeling he had failed the Potters but above all, that he had failed the wizarding world. Voldemort was still lurking, and the boy who would have been their last chance had vanished. In a last move of hope, he had checked the list of this year's new students. No Harry Potter had been subscribed for this year or for the seven next. As he closed the book, Dumbledore felt he could only sadly conclude that the last member of that old family had passed away.

_Somewhere in Spain_

Natalia walked down the path unhurriedly. Deep inside though, she was fuming. Her employer –former employer –had attempted to double-cross her and kill her after the money delivery. He had failed of course and she had killed all the extra security he had hired. Ordinarily, she wouldn't have bothered going through all. Had he not _ruined_ her favorite shirt, perhaps she would have left him alive. But no, he had to play the bigger guy and strain her top with blood -a top _Yasha_ had bought for her.

And when the big boss fell, his bodyguards launched on her. Nothing she couldn't take care of. She did spare the one who wore a wedding ring. The poor guy looked completely at loss –obviously a novice –and she was pretty sure he would stop working for shady people. She made it look like she wanted to leave someone behind so the survivor would spread the word that the Black Widow was not to be trifled with _again_.

Her footsteps wavered when she caught the sign of a music shop in the corner. Natalia hesitated a moment, wondering whether she should waste precious minutes just to check if what she was looking for could be found there. She had made a few steps towards the shop when she felt it; that disagreeable feeling of someone watching her, a threat hanging over her head. It wasn't the first time actually. Those past days, she couldn't shake that sensation of being followed and unfortunately, she had been working far too long in the business to know she had a tail. She had caught sight of him on a roof the previous day –a man wearing sunglasses, cramped in the shadows.

The moment she had realized that, she had decided they needed to move again. Shame, they had spent two full years here.

Determined to shake her tail before returning home, Natalia strolled through the streets, ducked through shortcuts and mixed with crowds. After a while, once she knew she had lost him, she directed herself in the right direction. Her steps had led her closer to home that she'd like, but since she figured she was no longer followed, it didn't mattered much.

The redhead slipped in a small alley and entered an ordinary-looking building. She headed to the second floor, stopped at the apartment numbered 205 and opened the door. The sound of a violin greeted her the moment she stepped in, and Natalia couldn't bite back a smile. As quietly as she could muster, she sneaked into the living room and peeked inside. An eleven year old boy was hanging onto his violin like his life depended on it. Long dark hair was tied back into a ponytail; his eyes were closed, enjoying the melody his habile fingers were producing. Natalia recognized the soloist part of Storm from Vivaldi. Not quite easy she assumed, yet he stood straight and elegant, in total ease as his fingers and bow ran over the cords. The last notes trailed off and he lowered his violin. The redhead stepped inside the room and slowly clapped her hands in approval.

"Great job малыш." She said with a smile. The boy blushed and returned her smile with a humble grin.

"Welcome back mama. Did you have any trouble during your courses?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle" she reassured him. "How did your lesson go?"

The boy grimaced.

"Miss Morgan is determined to get me into a music school. She says I'm a virtuoso in waiting, that the tools I have aren't enough for a good development."

Natalia raised an eyebrow at his neutral tone.

"I thought you would be thrilled by the news. Yasha, what's going on?"

His mouth thinned into a line. He pulled out a letter from his pants pocket and handed it to her. Natalia looked over the address and understood. The envelope had a creamy color, very parchment-like, and the green scripture in old elegant print made her wince. Her suspicions were furthermore approved when she returned it. A red seal was marked with an emblem she had seen very few times over the years, but would recognize anywhere. Howgart's crest.

Ten years ago, Sirius Black had trusted her with his best friend's baby son for two months. The two months had gone by and he hadn't returned. Despite having promised she'd leave the boy past the delay, Natalia had gone to England, determined to dump the one year old back on him. Her contacts had informed her that Sirius had been thrown into a wizard prison, Azkaban, for killing a war hero and hiding the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. Further investigation had made her realize how important the baby actually was for the magical community, and Natalia had made a decision. She could find out if the baby still had living relatives, she could search for one of the members of the Order of the Phoenix, she could drop the baby at an English orphanage or anywhere in the world –she wasn't that cruel, she knew a couple of good places- or…

She could keep him.

The thought had sounded crazy; she was the Black Widow, infamous assassin. Attention was her worst enemy and a baby would just hinder her. But then, the little boy had opened her eyes, green eyes, alike hers, and smiled that absolutely horribly cute smile of his and babbled '_maaama'_ and she knew she was stuck with him. Natalia might be a first-class assassin and an abnormality –curtsey of the Red Room and their serums –but she craved to feel a sense of _normality_. A baby would help her blend in. With her mind made up, she had taken off and never looked back. Ten years later, ten years of worrying, caring, watching and that baby had grown into the boy standing before her today.

He may have not turned out to be the boy his parents or Sirius would have wanted, but Natalia thought she hadn't done a bad job. Yasha was intelligent and resourceful. He seemed content with his life and she always made sure he felt cared for. But unfortunately, now that he was coming of age…

"I suppose that was bound to happen someday" she merely said, resigned.

The wizarding world was finally catching up with them.

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**Liked it? didn't like it? please let me know :)  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay I was totally NOT expecting so many reviews O.o And I'm pretty sure I didn't reply to most of them (not at home and limited Internet access, sorry about that ^^") but I'll do a better job next time, promise :)**

**A few people asked about the Yakov/Yasha name. In Russia, Yasha would be a nickname (picking your example Kairan1979) just like Nicky would be for Nicholas. Harry's name is actually Yakov and he will introduce himself as such to others, but I'll use Yasha for the narration and for Natasha.**

**As for why he wasn't sent to a Spanish school, there are a few reasons, although the main would be that I didn't want to recreate a whole school with new situations, especially since I could just send Harry/Yakov to Howgarts and have a kick writing his adventures there :P**

**Also, I'm afraid next chapter won't come as fast as this one. I already spend about 6 hours or more on a computer at work and when I get home, am not quite ready to turn my laptop on to continue writing…Thank you for understanding ^^"**

**In the meantime, I'll just let you read. **

**Thanks to KatHarkness-Katara for betaing ! **

**I don't own Harry Potter or the Avengers (too bad :P). Enjoy :) –won't blame you if you don't.**

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**Chap 2**

The bus slowed down and the driver opened the doors. Yasha glanced at the name of the stop and, seeing it wasn't his, read his letter again.

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Romanov,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

He folded it, placed it in his pocket and stared out the window. The sky was clear over London today, and he hoped it stayed that way for a while. Natalia had clearly let him know they would remain in the city until he took the train and he wanted to visit a few places before then. This was actually the second time he came to the English capital, but he was barely five the first time and didn't remember much. Yasha knew his mother resented England for personal reasons, and of course he knew why.

The bus stopped again and this time Yasha stepped down. Hands deep in his jacket's pocket, he strolled down the streets, glancing around in search of the pub where he was supposed to join Natalia. The woman had told him to meet her there at two pm sharp, or he'd have to buy his wand himself. Yasha snorted, knowing fully she wouldn't allow him to wander in a wizard avenue on his own. Too many risks, she'd say, too many chances to be recognized, especially in London. Or England, for the matter. England was still an unsafe place for Harry Potter, she'd say.

Yakov Romanov, nicknamed Yasha, knew he used to be Harry Potter.

Once he had been of an age to understand, once he had first shown signs of magic, his mother had told him what had happened to the baby once carrying that name. His parents had been murdered when he was one and his godfather, a wizard named Sirius, had entrusted him to her while he did some business. When Sirius had been thrown in jail after committing murder of thirteen people (although his mother wasn't quite convinced about the 'heartless muggle slaughter' part) and kidnapping (that one was accurate, sort of), Natalia had kept him. The mole Sirius had been after was still most likely running around and some fanatics that called themselves Death Eater still free and she trusted the English wizarding world would go crazy if he were to be recognized. It was a complete paradox they'd come here of all places for shopping, but Yasha tended not to ponder over his mother's reasoning too much.

He thought of the letter deep in his pocket and smirked. Yes, England might be still unsafe for Harry Potter, but not for Yakov Romanov.

He had no idea why he had been enrolled in that school under the name Natalia had given him, or why Hogwarts, a goddamn school of magic, wouldn't recognize him as Harry goddamn Potter. Was it because Yasha didn't consider himself as Harry Potter? Was it because he had been adopted? He didn't want to pounder over the thought anyway. Things were as they were and he was quite happy being Yakov Romanov. Sure, Harry had parents who had died for him, a godfather who had been likely thrown in jail for him; Harry had been loved and was now an orphan. And Yakov? Yakov had no blood parent, but he had his mother. He had this mother who had raised him as her own, who had brought him all over the world, who had taught him to fight and to flee, who had hired an old wizard to teach him the basics even though magic made her uneasy -because she couldn't fight it, she couldn't protect him from it, so he had to learn to defend himself in that field on his own. Yakov had no family aside from his incredible mother, and that was enough.

The last thought gave him a smile and he went on his road with a leap in his steps.

Five minutes later, he finally found the Leaky Caldron –a beaten up edifice with dirty windows and looking like it was about to fall apart anytime- and to his relief, found out he was a little early. Yasha carefully placed his cap over his face and walked in.

The inside was dark and certainly not responding to most sanitation criteria Great Britain (or any country in that matter) imposed bars and restaurants but Yasha had seen worst. Okay, maybe he was exaggerating, the place was mostly clean, but the darkness didn't flatter it. The atmosphere felt most intriguing though, quite appealing. He checked the crowd and, not seeing his mother, headed to the bar. The bald and nearly toothless guy moving behind stared at him intensely.

"Y'want something lad?" he asked.

"Yes sir. Have you seen a redhead woman around? I'm waiting for her."

"Can't say I have." He replied with a shrug.

"Do you mind if I wait here then?" Yasha asked, pointing an empty table in the corner. "She should arrive anytime."

The barman grumbled something that sounded like a 'sure' –Yasha wasn't quite sure, but he took it as if anyway, so he headed to said place and waited.

His decision to go to Howgarts was more out of curiosity than necessity. He had been taught the basics, had taught himself the rest, and managed well on his own. He didn't even _need_ a wand since Master Pietor had practiced wandless magic. His music teacher had nearly begged him to enter a music school and he'd had been _this_ _close_ to giving in, but the opportunity of entering a magical community free of charges was too tempting. Moreover the school was lost in Scotland and well-protected by magical barriers against non-magical people, so he knew Natalia would consider him safe. The problem was that it _was_ lost in Scotland and protected against non-magical people. His mother couldn't sneak in like she would normally do and he'd have to find a way to communicate with her without raising too much attention on her side. Owls might be practical, but what if she was in the middle of a mission?

Yasha had a pretty clear idea of what his mother did for a living. Even if she hadn't vaguely explained what her job consisted in; the guns, the knives, her odd bracelets, her knowledge in various martial arts and her sometimes questionable resources would had been a dead giveaway. It didn't bother him though. Nowadays, you had to get the money one way or another, right? And he admitted, he kinda liked watching her play the others. Fine, he _loved_ watching her playing a role and being the only one knowing she was just acting. People would just stare in awe and fall into her web so fast it made him laugh hilariously each and every time. Someday, he would be like that; a fabulous actor. He'd caught a few tricks watching her work the times she allowed him to tag along. He wouldn't be killing for sure, but there was something appealing to manipulating and misleading people, a strange sense of power. One day, he promised himself, he'd be as good as her, or even better.

The door opened and another client entered but not his mother. Yasha sighed and looked around. There was little people around, all of them witches and wizards he'd bet. None of them were paying attention to him, which was a good thing because he sure as hell was watching _them_. Two men were talking at a table with low voices –businessmen or government representative he'd bet, given their outfit. A witch was smoking a large green pipe. A man still holding onto his mug was dozing off. A group of five witches were laughing. A couple exchanging starry-gaze eyes…

When the door opened this time, Yasha grinned as he recognized the flash of red hair. _Finally_.

He stood up and hurriedly joined her. Natalia smiled when she saw him, but the edges of her mouth were tensed. She was preoccupied about something, he realized. Was she being followed?

Was that why she had asked him to come on his own and not with her?

"Ready for some shopping, ребенок?" (_brat_)

They already had all the furniture and wardrobe but Natalia insisted they bought his wand in a specific store. Something about his biological parents buying theirs there and blending in. Yasha nodded and they headed to the backdoor of the bar and ended in an enclosed yard. Natalia frowned.

"That's odd," she muttered. "There used to be a gate there."

"You sure you got the right place?" he asked.

"That's the only entrance I remember." She said, looking around, but nothing appeared to look close to a door or a secret passage. "Must need magic to activate it."

Yasha figured they'd need to go back inside to ask for help, but before he could voice his thought, one of the wizards he suspected being from the government appeared.

"Oh hello ," the man said, a bit surprised to find them. "What are you doing here?"

And then came one of Yasha's favorite moment; Natalia's metamorphosis. Her body language changed subtly, going from rigid to soft, from annoyed to honest-to-God puzzled and slightly distressed, her green eyes widening slightly and her mouth parting in an innocent way.

"We're trying to reach Diagon Alley," she said, her husky voice laced with a barely audible pleading for help. "My boy needs to do his shopping for school and I can't find the entrance."

The stranger nodded and smiled in understanding, obviously getting the hint she was not a witch –and apparently completely harmless.

"You should have set up an appointment with a Howgarts representative." The unknown man said, not unkindly. "They wouldn't mind scheduling a short introduction to the magical world for muggles."

"I will keep that in mind" Natalia replied with her most sincere and relieved smile –a very fake one, but only Yasha could tell. "Thank you so much, mister?"

"Diggory. My son's in Hogwarts too, in Hufflepuff. Perhaps you'll be sorted in the same house" he added, winking at Yasha. The boy returned his smile uneasily; he didn't quite know what the guy was talking about. What the hell was Hufflepuff?

The wizard did some manipulation against the wall with his wand and the wall transformed into a gate opening into an alley. Yasha stared in curiosity. Diagon Alley was filled with old-looking shops, elegant Middle-Age style. Clothes shop, bookshops, broom shops and all gadgets and stuff most useful and useless to a wizard. In overall, Yasha was not impressed. The few things he'd seen in America and all around Europe were pretty much the same, if not more impressive.

"What's the name of the store already?" he asked after getting disinterested in studying their environment.

"Ollivander's, but we need to make another stop first. There's a bank someplace here where your parents left you a vault," Natalia replied. Oh, another reason to come here? Check his bank account? He didn't even know he had one. "If not, I'll still need to get more of that wizard money."

Yasha could tell she was nervous by the way her eyes glanced at each and every corner of the street subtly.

"Are you all right mom? You've been tense lately."

The woman inhaled sharply and nodded.

Yasha could tell the lie, but he followed her wordlessly. Gringotts was the largest building in the street –typical of banks, he thought –and well seen from afar. They crossed a bunch of wizards dressed in robes and entered the grand door. The place was crawling with people and it took them a while to arrive at a free counter. When they finally got to meet the Goblin, the creature stared at them with contempt, then scorned at Natalia, no doubt sensing she was non magical. The redhead stared back with a raised eyebrow. Goblins always gave Yasha gave the creeps –and he knew his mom hated them, but she was too well trained and he too used to keep a straight face to let it show.

"We're here to check on my boy's vault," She said plainly. "But I have no idea where he left his key."

"We will need a blood check," the goblin replied, bored. "What's his name?"

Yasha stepped forwards and spoke low enough for the creature –and no one else- to hear:

"Harry Potter, sir. But I am better known as Yakov Romanov. Call me Romanov."

The goblin raised an eyebrow.

"Gringotts doesn't care about what name you chose to carry," he said cautiously but Yasha caught the intrigued tone in his voice and, given the slight tensing in her mother's hand, so did she. "Please go to the reclamation desk over there. They will fill the forms and do what's necessary."

"I have a question," the redhead said dryly, making sure she had the goblin's attention. "As far as I know, my boy's the last of his family line. No-one else has access to his vault, correct?"

The goblin looked vaguely annoyed.

"The vault is sealed until proof of a family line has passed away."

"Has anyone –a second or third party –attempted to open it these past years?"

"You will have to ask to the Po-your family's bank manager. But such attempt has never succeeded before. We value our clients' rights and privacy." He quickly added when she gave him a skeptical look.

"Right," She snorted and gave him the Evil Eye. The last man she'd used it on had wet himself. "If that manager fails to provide me a reliable bank deposit…"

"That has never happened before." The goblin insisted, obviously growing uneasy. Yasha smirked inwardly. Ugly creatures, powerful and bankers might they be, but they were still vulnerable to his mother's intimidation.

"If I heard _one_ penny has been moved, there _will_ be retaliation."

"O-of course" the goblin mumbled.

Natalia put a hand on Yasha's shoulder and guided him away. They didn't see the goblin blink a few times, confused about why he had felt _threatened_ by a muggle woman for a brief moment.

**-MNIYR- **

Ollivander glanced up as a new customer stepped inside his shop. He knew the smell of a newly arrived student, a client or an enquirer and this one was definitively a student. What he did not expect though, was his incredible resemblance to James Potter. The thought of his former customer briefly brought him to the stories and legends surrounding his lost son. Harry Potter was widely known to have been given away by his godfather to an unknown party, and that had been the starting point of the wildest rumors. Had the wand-maker not known the boy had vanished from the wizarding world years ago, he would have thought his new customer to be him.

Come to think of it, Harry Potter would have been about to enter his first year in Howgarts, had he been alive. And this boy, with his thin glasses, his green eyes, his long braided black hair –and was that a pearl earring on his left…? Never mind –this boy could be him. But the magical core… The child might have James Potter's features, Ollivander couldn't reconcile his magical core with the deceased family's.

Many wizards wondered how Ollivander so easily identified their family kinships. The answer was easy; each family had their own magical core and he had a gift to recognize them. The Potters were no exception and while his new customer carried a similar core signature, it wasn't the same. _But still, this boy…_

The fact puzzled him so much he missed the opportunity to make the grand entrance that freaked out everyone –the one where he slid from his ladder, which he was particularly proud of. The door opened again and this time a woman stepped in. Early to mid twenties, fiery red back-length hair, pale skin and intense green eyes. Muggle, his mind registered immediately as he couldn't feel a magical core. He suddenly felt a little grim. He didn't mind muggles, truly, but dealing with muggles when their offspring came to buy a wand could turn into a nightmare. They'd ask infinite questions, make snide remarks, used odd references of their preconceived vision of magic or even attempt to _try_ a wand. Ollivander hoped dearly the woman didn't belong to that category.

"Excuse me, sir?" the boy called out, waving in his direction. "Are you Mr. Ollivander?"

The wandmaker suddenly realized the boy had spotted him in the dim darkness and was talking to him. He grudgingly stepped down from his ladder and walked up to them.

"That would be correct." He replied good-naturally. "Another Hogwarts attendee?"

"Yes sir," the boy answered, staring at him straight in the face with in self-confidence rarely found in an eleven year old. He glanced around at various wands and asked: "So…how does this work?"

Ollivander snapped his fingers, calling the measuring tape. Both the boy and the woman tensed as it started to take measurements but the older man explained calmly:

"I need these to pick up details to help me sort the perfect wand for you. Your name?" he asked feigning nonchalance.

The boy glanced at the woman, who shrugged.

"Yakov Romanov, sir. This is my mother." He added defiantly, as if daring the wand maker to argue that point. The redhead seemed slightly amused for some reason.

"Romanov…" Ollivander trailed off. "Russian, isn't it? I would think you enroll into-"

"I received a letter for Hogwarts, not any other place." The boy cut in, annoyed, and earning a disapproving glance from his mother.

Feeling he overstepped his boundaries, Ollivander backed off and focused on finding the perfect wand. The Romanov family wasn't quite familiar to him so he didn't know where to start. He picked up the first one he thought compatible and handed it to him. Yakov Romanov took the wand, stared at it a few seconds before turning towards his mother.

"Don't look at me," the redhead said, the first words she had spoken since she had entered the shop. Her voice was deeper and huskier than he'd expect. Perhaps she was older than she looked. "I don't know what you're supposed to do with this."

"Just wave it," Ollivander helpfully imputed.

The boy did. Nothing happened. The wandmaker took the wand away and handed him another. The next one didn't fit. Neither did the others and soon enough empty boxes were piling up in a corner. It made Ollivander happy though. He loved difficult clients.

"May I try something?" Yasha asked eventually, obviously irritated after the twentieth –or was it the thirtieth?-wand he tried. Ollivander raised a questioning eyebrow. "Please sir? We're just wasting time here."

Without waiting for an answer, the boy walked down the nearest aisle, arm stretched so that his fingers brushed the boxed wands. Ollivander watched him proceed, too intrigued by the boy's boldness to retaliate. Yakov Romanov suddenly stopped in front of a shelf and pulled one out. To Ollivander's surprise, sparkles of red and gold erupted when he tried the one he had picked. A perfect match.

"I assume this means it's the right one?" the boy asked almost smugly. Ollivander managed to pick up his jaw fairly quickly, although not quite managing to hide his disappointment.

"Yes it is…" he stepped closed, observed the wand closely, and his heart nearly stopped. It was 11 inches long, made of holly and had a phoenix feather core. "Young man, have you heard of the dark wizard, You-Know-Who?"

The boy frowned, but the name obviously rang a bell. Even the muggle woman suddenly took interest in their conversation.

"You-know-who? You mean Voldemort?" Ollivander nearly winced at the name. "Sure, here and there. What about him?"

The wandmaker marked a heavy pause and confessed:

"It is a rare occurrence, but as it happens…" he trailed off and noticed the bored expressions on both face. Ollivander held back a heavy sigh; they would not be impressed by his tale it seemed. "The Phoenix feather used as a core to your wand was not the only one. Another feather was donated from that same Phoenix and made into another wand, Voldemort's."

In spite of the deep meaning of the words, the boy looked unimpressed.

"Great. Hear that mom? My wand has the same core as a mass-murderer's." Mrs. Romanov rolled her eyes. "Thank you for the oh-so-helpful information, sir."

The muggle woman spoke for the second time:

"Why tell us this?"

"It's just…fascinating." He said in his most impressionable acting. "Brother wands are rare, I believe you and You-Know-Who are likely to cross paths in the future."

The boy stared at him intensely.

"Is that magical destiny or some cra- some prophecy?" he amended at the woman's raised eyebrow. Ollivander was slightly disappointed his words had so little effect. That, or the two had excellent poker faces.

"Fate has its way, I'm afraid."

"_Fate_ is a word and nothing else." The woman snapped dryly, eyes narrowed and arms crossed firmly. "Yasha, we're done here. How much is that thing worth?"

They paid the due and left the store. Ollivander watched them until they disappeared from his sight. He hesitated a moment and seeing no other client was arriving, turned back in the depths of his workshop, firmly deciding to write a letter to a certain headmaster.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for all the reviews! I'm still amazed to read so many comments :D keep them coming in! They always make my day better ! Btw, if I didn't mention the scar yet...well, there's a reason :)**

**Lisou: Si tu es bien la personne à laquelle je pense, tu traduis mes chapitres et les lis comme ça? Contente qu'elle te plaise en attendant :3**

**Many thanks to KatHarkness-Katara for betaing! **

**And I still don't own Harry Potter or Avengers (too bad :P). Please enjoy! (wont blame you if you don't ^^)**

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**Chap 3**

The clock indicated five in the morning but Natalia was still wide awake. In a couple hours, she would have to wake up her boy and take him to the train station and watch him ride away to an unknown destination. She hated this situation. She hated that he would be far beyond her reach, in the middle of a bunch of wizards who probably wouldn't hesitate to use him for their own political ends. She hated this, but it was a necessary evil.

Things hadn't been looking good for her lately, especially with that annoying tail following her. She couldn't help the dreading feeling that a face-to-face confrontation wouldn't end in her favor, and she needed Yasha far away if the worst-

Yasha muttered something in his sleep and shifted until he reached a more comfortable position. Natalia smiled briefly and brushed a strand of hair off his face. He had inherited so much of James Potter's features, people would undoubtedly figure out his origins sooner rather than later. The proof was that old wandmaker who had nearly recognized him on spot, even though the magical world had no idea what he looked like.

Then again, the fact that he had not been invited as 'Harry Potter' by his school would likely play in their favor. And during their visit at Gringotts, she had learned that some people had tried to access his vault. Some had demanded an account, probably to check if anyone related to the Potters (aka their son) had retrieved money. Thankfully, as the goblin at the reception desk had told her, Gringotts truly valued the privacy of their clients, and since the Potters were old money, their protectiveness knew no bounds.

What worried her most was that goddamn wand. Yasha had been quite flippant about it and had found the situation stupidly ironic, but not she. If that old goat was right and the choice would lead her boy straight to an encounter with his parents' murderer, Hogwarts was probably the worst place for Yasha to go. Yet paradoxically, sending him there was the also the best way to protect him. If he was recognized, no-one would allow _anything_ happen to him. If she disappeared, the magical community would take care of him. Plus, she had given him the tools to succeed, had taught him to think and rely on himself and to fight when needed. Taking in account his stubbornness and temper, Natalia knew he would go far in life, with or without her. He was better prepared than she ever was; he would survive.

She most feared that in case she _did_ died by the hand of her tail, Yasha would shake heaven and hell to find her murderer and kill him himself. That one time Red Room operatives had caught her and nearly ended her…Natalia closed her eyes to chase away the memory. Now was not the time to ponder over these thoughts.

The boy clenched his fist in his pillow before releasing it with a sigh. Natalia chuckled and ran her hand through his hair. Watching him sleep was one of her rare guilty pleasures. Tomorrow, he would be miles away and she would be alone for the first time in years. She closed her eyes and, in a rare moment of vulnerability, let a tear glide down her cheek.

She would definitely miss him.

_**King's Cross Station**_

They had gone together to the train station for once and not on their separate ways and for that Yasha was grateful. He'd never admit it out loud but he was nervous about this. A part of him genuinely wanted to go to that wizard school, but another part wanted to turn around and get the hell out of there with his mother in tow. They hadn't been separate for more than a couple of days in years and without Natalia by his side, his self-confidence would drastically deflate.

Thank God he had managed to tuck his beloved violin in his luggage. He had a feeling he'd need to cling to something familiar in the first few weeks.

"Keep your eyes open for others like you." Natalia's voice brought him back on the ground. "I know about the procedure to reach the platform but I'm not quite sure about the exact location."

"We just need to look for kids pushing carts bigger than themselves," Yasha pointed out flippantly, waving at his own cart. His furniture took up a lot of space; he hated needing to carry so much stuff. What if he needed to run? He'd loathe leaving his things behind.

They soon spotted a redhead woman pushing a cart with tons of luggage followed by three teenagers, all boys including twins, another boy about Yasha's age and a slightly younger girl, babbling about muggles everywhere. Yasha and Natalia exchanged a look, wondering if this could go any easier. They followed the redhead family from afar for a while, until they stopped to face a ticket barrier. What appeared to be the eldest son launched forwards, but Yasha didn't quite follow his moves as a group of tourist obscured his view momentarily. When they moved away, the boy was gone. One of the twins spotted them and elbowed his brother. Or rather, they noticed _Natalia_. Yasha winced inwardly; his mother looked deceptively young and, thanks to that extremely attractive face and figure of hers, often caught gazes. She had used her charms a lot before to distract people from him. Sometimes, he really wished people stopped staring at her like she was eye candy and one day, he knew he would end up punching someone.

"Excuse me," Natalia called out. The twins swiftly looked away, embarrassed at being caught and the supposed witch turned around. Yasha pushed his cart closer and let his mother speak: "I'm sorry to bother you, but it's my boy's first year. He needs to go to the Station platform 9 ¾, but I'm not sure how to…"

"You must be muggles!" the mother of the tribe chipped in, looking absolutely thrilled. The use of the term muggle confirmed their suspicions; she at least belonged to the magical world. "Don't worry, it's not a rare occurrence. It's Ron's first year too," she added, nudging her youngest son who nodded with pride.

"That's…nice," Natalia said blandly. "Listen, I'm sorry but I have to leave for a meeting. Do you mind making sure my boy makes to the Hogwarts Express?"

"You're not staying?" Yasha asked with a hint of surprise and disappointment. Natalia grimaced.

"Мне очень жаль, Яша, но у меня есть поклонник _(I'm sorry Yasha, but I have an admirer)_."

"Oh." So she _had_ been followed lately. That didn't sound good.

The witch looked disappointed for another reason.

"Shame, I would have _loved_ to talk about the muggle world." She smiled warmly at Yasha. "Say your goodbyes then, I'll be waiting."

Natalia looked all-too-relieved to pawn him off, but Yasha wouldn't question her motives. If she couldn't stay, then the danger was closer than he suspected. She crouched to be at his level and cupped his cheeks with both hands.

"Ты моя самая большая гордость (You are my greatest pride)" she whispered gently. "и всегда будешь, несмотря ни на что. Всегда помни это. (_And __will __always __be__, __no __matter __what __happens__, __always remember that_)." She stood up and kissed his forehead gently. "Иди и сделай так, чтобы я гордилась тобой еще больше. _(__Now go and make me even prouder)." _

Yasha felt uneasy all of a sudden. His mother never spoke so seriously, like she was saying _that_ kind of farewell.

"And you, be careful" he replied and added firmly: "_Я буду ждать тебя здесь, когда вернусь.(__I'll be waiting for you when I return)_."

She gave him a reassuring smile that did not ease his concerns. A last squeeze on his shoulder, a thank you to the witch and she walked away. Yasha watched her mingle and vanish into the crowd with a pang in his chest. This was it. He was leaving for Hogwarts. He took one last deep breath and turned towards the witch.

She smiled warily at him. Yasha suspected she didn't like not understanding their dialogue, but he wasn't going to translate for her anyway. He gave her a perfectly innocent smile.

"So how can I reach the train, ma'am?" he asked. She snapped back into the moment and replied:

"It's easy really. Do you see the ticket barrier over there…"

**HPXOA**

Natalia walked out of King's Cross mildly angry. She wished she could have followed her boy up to the train and wave goodbye as the train left the station, but it had become too dangerous. The same set of eyes she had felt earlier that week had been on her five minutes ago, and she couldn't -_wouldn't_- put Yasha in harm's way. The moment she stepped outside, she hurried down the main street, feeling her follower's gaze immediately on her back.

There weren't many people on the street, but she figured her tail would rather kill her away from eye witnesses. After all, he hadn't tried to approach her in the train station. And given the way he seemed to favor the rooftops, she'd bet on a sniper. So she mingled with the crowd as long as she could and slipped away into a small toyshop. She had ordered a taxi to bring them to the station and she had avoided more than a minimum of contact with the outside world the past few days. But it seemed her precautions weren't enough. Natalia wasn't quite surprised though; if her tail was as good as she suspected, he was already trying to figure out a place where he could take the shot or weighing his options on whether he should take the risk and eliminate her in plain sight.

Natalia made the choice for him and walked out of the shop by the backdoor, entering an alley she knew would be too uncomfortable for him to take a clear shot and barely large enough for hand-to-hand. Her tail would have to follow her there if he wanted to do his job, or wait for another opportunity that may never come. Now that Yasha was gone, she was free to vanish deeply underground for a while.

_**Hogwarts Express**_

The train had been gone for a little less than ten minutes when the door of Yasha's compartment opened and Ron, the youngest son of the redhead witch, peeked in. Mrs Weasley –that was her name –had ordered her twins to help him load his luggage and wished him a good year before he climbed into the train, and he had locked himself in the first empty place he had found.

And those ten minutes had been enough to remind him why he really, really, really hated train travel. Put him on a plane, a helicopter, a boat, a race car or a motorbike, or even push him from a goddamn cliff with nothing else but a parachute, he was perfectly fine. Heck, he had actually jumped off a cliff with a paragliding with his mother last year –an amazing experience. But the dull, repetitive and uncomfortable rocking of a train? No need for a bloodthirsty psycho murderer. That would definitively finish him off.

"Hey," Ron greeted quietly. "Can I sit there? The other ones are full."

Yasha shrugged, his hands tightening slightly around the random book he had pulled out of his suitcase to pretend being busy, and not about to puke at any moment.

"It's a free country." He said, and acted as if he was returning to a lost page.

"What's it written in?" the redhead asked, eying said book with curiosity. Yasha nearly rolled his eyes.

"Russian."

"You can read Russian?" Nod. "Can you speak Russian?"

"Da," Yasha replied, eyes narrowing on the letters without actually reading them. He felt the beginning of a headache forming and if Weasley went on-

"So, you lived there?"

"I lived in many places," Yasha said dismissively, achingly hoping Weasley would leave him alone.

But he didn't. And for the next half-hour, Ron kept asking questions and questions and kept talking and talking about the magic world. Because of course, he _had_ to learn that Yasha came from a muggle background and of course, coming from a muggle background, he must know squat about the magical world, so Ron was more than willing to introduce him. In spite of the near constant silence and the dismissive responses, Yasha had to admire the redhead's persistence. Weasley seemed either incapable of taking a hint or just plain determined to make of Yasha his first friend. Still, the incessant chatter did not alleviate Yasha's growing headache. Or the nausea.

"Do you have a pet?" Ron asked eagerly. Yasha shook his head and the redhead pulled out something grey from his pocket. "I have a rat, Scabbers. It was my brother's, Percy, but I kinda _inherited_ him when he got an owl…"

Yasha suddenly forget everything about his headache, his nausea, the annoying Weasley. His eyes were instantly drawn to the rodent…

…_jumped out of the dumpster, squeaking as they ran past by him, leaving in their wake some traces, some prints __whose __color reminded him__ oddly__ of a dark red and suddenly he realized a few of them were actually covered with blood and one was staring at him with those dark, gleaming eyes but all he could see was the goddamn blood and a feeling of dread and panic rising within because those rats came from the exact direction she had gone to and…_

"Put it away." Yasha ordered coldly. Ron blinked in surprise.

"Wha-"

"I said, put that disgusting little creep away!" Yasha snapped, hands itching to grab the rodent and twist its neck. Ron misunderstood his feelings and spoke with a nonchalance that angered Yasha even more.

"He's not going to hurt you, you kn-"

"I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!" This time, Yasha jumped to his feet, ready to just grab the damn thing. The rat looked frozen in fear all of a sudden. "Put it away or I will take care of the damn little shit myself!"

Weasley stared at him, stunned by the vehemence and anger in the other boy's voice, but Yasha ignored it. His whole focus was centered on the rodent fidgeting uncomfortably on Ron's laps.

The door slid open and a girl their age stepped in, a slightly plumpish boy peeked from behind her over her shoulder.

"What's going on in here?" The girl asked mildly annoyed, mildly angry and mildly anxious at the same. "We heard you yelling from the other side of the corridor."

The Weasley boy took advantage of the interruption to shove Scabbers in his pocket and warily glanced back at Yasha.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were afraid of rats."

"Not afraid of rats," Yasha said darkly. "I loathe them."

"Why that?" the redhead asked with curiosity.

"None of your business."

"Is that Hogwarts: A History? I think I recognize the cover."

The interruption came from the girl whose eyes had zeroed on the abandoned book on the seat. An odd glint had lit up in her eyes and her expression had turned all too solemn.

"Yeah?" Yasha replied warily.

The seriousness bloomed into a wide grin.

"I loved it! It was most interesting to find out how Hogwarts was founded and the evolution in history! What did you think of it?"

Yasha blinked at her.

"It was…informative?"

The answer seemed to please the girl, who beamed even wider.

"I'm Hermione Granger." The boy behind her shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Oh, and he's Neville." She added. "What's your name?"

"Yakov Romanov."

Hermione frowned.

"Isn't that…"

"Yes it's a Russian name. No I am obviously not enrolling in a Russian school."

"Oh." She looked slightly offended. "Okay."

"And I'm Ron Weasley." The redhead inputted. The two ignored him.

"I think the book contains everything you need to know about Hogwarts when you just arrive." Hermione went on. "I'm muggle-born, so I didn't know anything about the wizarding world before I received my letter."

Yasha had the feeling she was assuming he was muggle-born as well. He didn't feel like correcting her.

"I'll just…go look for Trevor." Neville said quietly. Hermione suddenly looked crestfallen and guilty. "My toad," the boy added. "I lost him."

"I'll go with you!" Ron immediately volunteered, looking suddenly eager to leave the room. Perhaps the perspective of staying alone with Yasha again didn't suit him well. Not that Yasha was complaining; now that the anger from the rat episode was fading, the motion sickness was coming back in a vengeance. The boys didn't waste time leaving the compartment, abandoning Hermione behind. To Yasha's dismay, she looked rather eager to sit down and –

"You should go with the boys." Yasha said immediately, and before she could object, added quickly: "I've got motion sickness. Won't be great company."

Disappointment filled her face, but to his relief, she nodded in understanding.

"Are you sure you don't want company?"

"Actually, talking gives me a headache," he said, and boy why hadn't he just manned up and told Weasley earlier? That would have spared him some suffering. "We can talk later."

"Okay. Sure." She mumbled. "See you later."

The door was shut again. Yasha returned to his seat and closed his eyes. His stomach returned to its uneasy balancing and he focused his attention on controlling his breathing pattern. He could have easily swallowed a few pills before getting on board, but hell would freeze over before he'd rely on some potion or drug to make him feel better. Even Natalia couldn't force him, unless he was on the brink of death –which, thankfully, had never happened.

On the bright side, he was now alone to deal with his misery.

Or not.

Barely five minutes later, the door slid open again and this time, three boys stood in the threshold. The leader, a blonde with hair thrown back and seemingly held in place by gel, stepped in, followed by what appeared to be two kid gorillas in size and brains. Yasha wanted to curse or hit something. Quietness and loneliness helped him deal with the sickness and being interrupted every five minutes would not help his stomach to settle. He truly hoped those three would scram soon before an accident happened. The blonde stared straight at him.

"Are you Harry Potter?"

The only thing that stopped Yasha from answering was a sudden jerk from the train and the unhappy response from his stomach. The blonde kid took his silence for a yes and suddenly looked smug.

"I was told you might be on the train. These are Crabbe and Goyle," he pointed the two gorillas behind him, not quite indicating who was who. "I am Draco Malfoy, one of the most prestigious Pureblood families left here."

In spite of his age –assuming he was eleven too –the Malfoy kid spoke like those old aristocrats in movies, proud of their status and arrogant about it. He was directly catalogued in the 'snobs –do not bother too much' chapter in Yasha's book.

"I've also heard you might have been raised in the muggle world. But if-"

"I'm not Harry Potter," Yasha blurted, hoping he would hold back long enough to have a short-timed conversation and convince them to leave him alone. Speaking, it seemed, had been a bad idea. Another wave of nausea, slightly stronger than the previous one, caught his throat.

Malfoy looked disappointed.

"Oh. Who are you then?"

Yasha didn't answer for two reasons: one, this was none of his business; two, opening his mouth right now would be a very, **very** bad idea.

"He doesn't look too good," Goyle –or was it Crabbe? –said. Malfoy ignored him and stepped closer, his face tight and slightly annoyed.

"I asked you a question," he said with poor authority. Yasha bet even Weasley could look more impressive if he tried. "What's your-"

Yasha's attempts to keep his mouth shout were vain.

He really, really, _really_ hated the train.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello everyone! Sorry for the long time in between updates, schedules aren't always going smoothly ^^" Again, I am really impressed by the number of review. Thank you everyone!**

**KK: **outch :s (I kinda relate…except I was the kid ^^")

**Guest: **yes, motion sickness

**Opinr: **Thank you :D

**Lisou: **pas qu'un peu la pression ^^". Bravo pour tes exams d'ailleurs :3 faudrait qu'on se voie un de ces 4, j'ai un bouquin qui pourrait te distraire…

**Many thanks to KatHarkness-Katara for betaing!**

**And special thanks to AnimaFera who kindly helped me with the Russian parts :) **

**I don't own Harry Potter or the Avengers (too bad :P). Enjoy :) –won't blame you if you don't.**

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**Chap 4**

**_Hogwarts_**

Yasha was all too glad to step on the solid, stable ground when the train came to a stop. He was one of the first down, but once again, he was set for another surprise altogether.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

At the end of the platform, a huge man was waving at the crowd of students. Big black beard, taller than anyone he had ever met, impressively large. Yasha bet he was a half-giant. Master Pietor had mentioned those people once, during his drunken moments. Stronger than any human, fast in spite of their size and exceptionally dangerous if they were angry at you. The boy could understand what his old mentor meant back then. That man –half-giant –could probably crush his skull with one hand.

"He's huge!" he heard someone whisper in awe besides him. He didn't need to turn around to recognize Weasley's voice. The redhead kid hadn't tried to approach him since they'd gotten down the train and he didn't spot Malfoy-the-Pureblood among the crowd either. A part of him wanted to apologize for emptying his stomach on the boy's clothes. Another part also felt that he wouldn't be sorry for it later.

A hand brushed his shoulder and Yasha _didn't_ jump in surprise, although he came too close to turn around and punch whoever had initiated a physical contact with him. He was glad he didn't though. The Granger girl would have certainly not appreciated it.

"I looked for you everywhere!" she said in an annoyed tone. "I left the boys after they found Trevor but I couldn't find your compartment anymore." Then she dropped the tone and asked: "Are you all right?"

"I feel much better," Yasha replied lightly. "The lady selling candies gave me something against motion sickness and I went for a walk."

A total lie, but he wouldn't admit he'd had to sneak out by the window and use his wandless magic to climb and lay back on the roof of the train for a while. And yes, he had nearly frozen to death thanks to the wind and cool air but at least he hadn't been sick for the rest of the trip.

The crowd of first year students started moving and Yasha and Granger followed the pack. The half-giant led them to the border of the lake, and Yasha had to admit that the landscape was well-damned worth the long hours of suffering. The night has fallen like a dark velvet cover, and yet the castle was dominating the whole background, standing proudly on the stone, illuminated by tons of small windows. He wished Natalia was there with him. She would have loved this scenery.

"Come on Yakov, we need to get on a boat!" Hermione hissed impatiently. He followed her on a small embarkation and climbed in with two others kids. Everyone around him was fascinated by the landscape, eyes wide opened and Yasha could understand their reaction. He was engraving every bit in his memory himself.

"Everyone in?" the half-giant shouted. "Right then –FORWARD!"

They crossed the lake, arrived at the shore. Then, they stopped in front of a huge door and were led inside. The architecture didn't impress Yasha as much as he'd hope. Hogwarts was a fine castle, no mistake there, but he'd seen better. Take all the refined castles all over Europe and the magnificent churches…

"They say the castle was built centuries ago by the Founders." Next to him, the Granger girl kept babbling about things she had read in Hogwarts A History. Apparently, just like the Weasley boy, she had decided he was worthy of being her first friend. "And the ceiling of the Great Hall was bewitched to look like the sky."

He turned around and sent her an unwavering stare.

"Granger, this is all very interesting but no-one is listening. Please be quiet."

The girl looked hurt, but complied when she realized he was right. They climbed up the stairs until they reached the top, where a severe-looking witch was waiting for them.

'_Do all wizards have a thing for drama?'_ Yasha wondered as the elderly woman started her introduction speech with a pinning stare and a strict voice. And he clearly noticed when she mentioned Gryffindor first and Slytherin last. Favorites much? She looked very scholarly in a witch-y way, with her hair tied back in and her body wrapped in that emerald green robe and tilted hat. Very English, although her accent was more Scottish. He noticed she didn't keep her wand at hand; probably in her pocket or in a wand hostler. She obviously didn't expect any of the students to be a danger to her.

When she left and no-one followed, Yasha glanced at Granger and asked:

"Where is she going?"

The girl stared at him in disbelief.

"She just said she'd be back. Weren't you listening?"

He was. He just hoped he had somehow missed a part of her speech.

Someone up there had decided Yasha wouldn't be able to reply to anyone today without being interrupted, for a boyish gasp caught everyone's attention. About twenty transparent, black and white picture-like men and women had just entered the room from a main corridor and some were welcoming them in turn. Yasha cursed. Goddamn _ghosts_. He hoped these ones wouldn't try to live up to French ghosts' reputation and haunt the corridors seeking out living gossip.

Next to him, Granger gasped in surprise and fear. He felt compelled to reassuringly pat her shoulder. She gave him a grateful smile, which he didn't know how to reply to. Most of the kids had apparently never met a ghost before and they were all gawking. Yasha took advantage of that moment to glance at his surroundings and, out of habit, identified the exit routes. None of the ones he found were favorable for a discreet escape, he noted, but in every old castle there were hidden secret passages. Now that was one thing he'd have to figure out this year whenever he had the time.

"What are you looking at?"

Granger again. Yasha didn't bother answering this time, since inevitably fate would prevent him from doing so. And he was right, as he spotted the elderly witch returning from wherever she had been. Had she departed on purpose to let the newcomers be impressed by the ghosts?

"Move along now," she said sharply –what was her name by the way? She hadn't introduced herself yet, had she? "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Large doors opened in front of them, and the bunch of first years entered what Yasha supposed to be the Great Hall. His eyes immediately darted upwards. Candles were lighting the whole room, and above, a blue night sky replaced the ceiling. He had to admit whoever created it had been good at his job. The crowd of students stopped at the edge of the tables, and the elderly witch set an old hat on a stool. The hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide and it began to sing.

"_Oh you might not think I'm pretty…"_

Yasha wanted to roll his eyes. A singing hat? Really? He listened to the lyrics and understood the hat was basically asking the kids to trust him with the sorting. So the Sorting Ceremony was nothing but a future student sitting on a chair, and waiting for the name of a house to be screamed by an old hat? Yasha was truly disappointed. He was hoping for some wrestling or something more challenging. But according to the reaction of majority of students, perhaps the gentle method was the best. He just sighed, crossed his arms, and waited.

Crabbe and then Goyle were both sorted to Slytherin. Next to him, Hermione started fidgeting, tensed and edgy but impatient all the same. She had kept quiet since he had told her to, something he was grateful for; since he had a vague impression she tended to babble when nervous.

"Granger, Hermione."

She inhaled sharply and moved forwards. Yasha watched her with some form of amusement as she sat on the chair and eagerly set the hat over her eyes. The hat didn't take long to make a decision.

"**GRYFFINDOR!**"

Hermione's grin was so bright the boy figured the candles were a waste. Still, he ignored the dejected feeling settling in his guts as he watched her leave to join her table. He was starting to like her and really wished they would stay in contact if he was sorted in another House. After reading Hogwarts: A History; he had a feeling he'd end up in Slytherin.

Students went by. A few faces he remembered from the crowd were sorted. The Neville boy was sent in Gryffindor. Everyone was thrilled and the Head of each House tried their best not to look too smug when a new student was sent among them.

After a while, Yasha noted the hat didn't have a precise time set to make a choice. Some kids –take Longbottom - made the suspense last a full minute; unlike Malfoy, who was sorted the moment the hat brushed his head. How did the hat sort them, by the way? It appeared that it made its choice according to the things it read in the students' mind, but Yasha hadn't given it much thought until now. What did the hat see exactly? Would it report to the headmaster, or anyone?

"Romanov, Yakov."

Yasha climbed the steps, one by one, slowly, and discreetly took a closer look at his future teachers. They varied in size and age and some were staring at him intensely. Yasha frowned noticeably as his gaze crossed the oldest, probably the headmaster, Dumbledore. Something clicked and his instincts screamed not to trust him. An odd glint appeared in the man's eye and right after, a gentle nudge in his mind. Was that old goat trying to read…Yasha nearly stopped to call the mighty wizard out, but figured he might as well be subtle for now. He conjured in his mind instead a vivid image of him flipping the bird. The headmaster blinked in surprise and Yasha smirked smugly.

"Please sit," the elderly witch ordered when he arrived. The large hat fell over his eyes, hiding the Great Hall from his view. And suddenly, he heard a voice in his head.

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

Yasha nearly jumped out of his bones but somehow managed to keep his position stiff –if she'd seen him, Natalia would be _so_ proud.

"Calm down boy, calm down," the hat said, clearly amused by his reaction. "I'm just here to sort you in your house; after that, you'll have no more interaction with me."

"_Thank God for small mercies,_" Yasha mumbled. The next sentence made him freeze though:

"It is surprising you have been invited at Hogwarts as Yakov Romanov, and not Harry Potter."

"_Harry Potter? I thought that guy was dead._" Yasha said innocently. The hat 'tss-ed' and went on:

"You and I both know you are him. Although I do feel a deep change in your magical core, as if something has been withdrawn from your soul…"

"_If you are referring to the ritual Goblins practiced on me to get rid of some nasty piece of dark magic an asshole stuck in my soul, then yeah, my magic core has been meddled with."_ Yasha replied dryly. "_My mother largely overpaid those creeps for that and trust me, it wasn't an easy process."_

The hat's interest peeked at that, but Yasha didn't want to remember that particular moment any longer. The extraction had been a nightmare –bloody and painful and he had nearly died he recalled- but once done, Yasha had truly felt like a weight had been lifted from his mind. On the minus side, he had lost that scar on his forehead. He kinda missed it afterwards, the strange lightening shape made him look totally badass.

"So they retrieved the…'nasty piece of dark magic' from your soul, but you kept its properties…Interesting…Boy, are you a Parselmouth?"

"_A what?"_

"Can you speak to snakes?"

Yasha frowned.

"_Is that any of your business? Are you actually a voyeur-stalker in disguise?" _

"You have one of the most distracting mind I've ever read." The hat protested. "I'm actually having fun trying to figure it out."

"_Glad to be your one-time magazine. But don't overexert yourself, I already know where I want to go." _

"Slytherin, eh? You are not taking the easy way."

"_I'm not particularly brave or hard-working or creative or loyal –except to mother."_ Yasha pointed out. _"But I can play others better than most people and I love it. And you're giving me a choice between a House of Nerds, a House of Sheep, a House of Idiots and a House of Backstabbers. Seriously, my mind's been made up since I read Hogwarts: A History."_

"I wouldn't rush if I were you." The hat tried to smoother his determination. "You have an extraordinary path waiting ahead," Yasha peeked up, suddenly interested. "Every house could…"

"_Wait a sec, you're saying you can see __my __future?" _

"I have glimpses of where some paths might lead you" the hat admitted.

"_Will I become a violinist?" _he asked, suddenly more excited.

"Sorry, whatever I see needs to be kept quiet."

_"_ козел_"_ (_goat_) Yasha cursed under his breath.

"Pardon? What did you say?"

"_You don't understand Russian? I thought you were a magic hat." _

"Watch your tongue." The hat warned, although it did sound a little annoyed.

"_Whatever. So, where are you sending me? With the Idiots? The Nerds?"_

"I'm still trying to figure that one out." It mumbled, apparently annoyed at having a first-year arguing with it.

"_How come you're so slow? I've been sitting here too long. It took between ten to fifty seconds for everyone else. Barely one if you include that bleached haired kid."_

"Draco Malfoy?"

"_Yeah, him."_ Yasha paused, suddenly thinking over something. _"Did you make it quick because you didn't want to find out what was in his head?"_

"Kid, I'm warning you…"

"_Given the way he talks, he's just an arrogant know-it-all. Lemme guess, his head was a black hole and you were scared of being sucked into it?" _

"Why do I even try?" the hat muttered, dejected. "You'll get what you want anyway. _**Slytherin**_!"

"Ты всю малину испортил! _(you spoilsport)_" Yasha protested out loud this time –he was starting to have fun with that odd mind-reading hat- and glared at it as the elderly witch retrieved it.

She gave him a surprised look, to which he apologized quickly before hurrying to join the Slytherin table. Most of his classmates –or housemates?- welcomed him with crocked grins and snobbish attitude. He disliked them already but grudgingly sat at a free spot. A few of them –including Malfoy, stared at him warily from afar. He ignored them and checked out for Hermione at the Gryffindor's table. The girl looked truly disappointed. Yasha shrugged apologetically. She replied with a soft smile of her own before being sucked in a conversation with her neighbour. Yasha then managed to catch Weasley among the yet-sorted crowd and the redhead was literally glowering at him. Yasha stared back with his eyebrows lifted in a way that would have made his mother proud until Weasley looked away.

"Hi, my name's Lucian Bole!" a boy, perhaps a year or two older, sitting next to him said cheerfully. Yasha stared at him for a few seconds, searching for any signs of him being an idiot or a manipulative bastard, and since he found nothing, reluctantly replied:

"Yakov Romanov."

"I know; you were just sorted." Yasha stared at him blankly, but it didn't discourage Lucian. "Are you a Pureblood? I heard the Romanov family was very influent in Russia."

Pureblood. Malfoy's kind of family. Yasha felt that word would annoy him a lot in the future.

"Don't know, don't want to know and honestly don't care." He replied dryly. "What's that thing with blood anyway? Blood is blood. No matter how pure it is, if you don't have any in your body, you die, period. That's the only important thing."

His words were met by uneasy silence. A few snorted in amusement. Lucian Bole seemed to immediately lose interest and leaned away, as if not being a Pureblood was a sort of disease. An older student explained:

"Calm down, we're talking about whether your parents are wizards or no. If one of your parents is a muggle you're a half-blood. If both your parents are muggles, you're muggle-born. If both-"

"-if both are wizards, I'd be a pureblood, I got that." He paused and smirked: "So what happens if your grandmother is a muggle, but your mother a wizard, and your father comes from a Pureblood family? Am I a half-blood? A pureblood?" When the student didn't reply, he added: "I stand by my word. Blood is blood. Without any in your body, you die."

"You're morbid." A girl sitting across him said with a frown on her face.

"Thank you," he replied with his best charming smile. "And you are?"

"Daphne Greengrass," she replied reluctantly, like she would rather feed a snake. Yasha felt he'd have fun teasing this one and returned his attention to the remaining students to be sorted. It was Weasley's turn and he was sent to Gryffindor. Hermione looked annoyed as hell.

"Are you looking at the Gryffindor table?" The older student asked, and Yasha knew that one would not leave him alone.

"Is there a problem with that?"

"It's just surprising. Gryffindors and Slytherins are rivals."

_Please, tell me something I don't already know,_ he thought, annoyed. While the older student kept babbling about the history of the two houses he had already read, Yasha let his mind wander. This place, Hogwarts, didn't quite live up to his expectations aesthetically-wise, but he was still impatient to start classes. Especially Transfiguration and Potions. Those would be useful in unexpected situations.

Suddenly the headmaster stood up and gave his welcoming speech. Yasha listened to the announcements –forbidden forest, no magic in the corridors, Quidditch and…forbidden third level? Well if _that_ wasn't a call for curious students to take a look…Figuring he had heard enough, Yasha only halfway listened to the rest of the speech and busied himself observing the rest of the students. The elders paid mild attention to the old wizard while the younger recruits stared at him like he was a superstar. Dumbledore, Yasha remembered, was a war hero and a powerful wizard after all. Those didn't mean he was trustworthy though. Take the recent mind-reading attempt. In contrast, Natalia was a spy and an assassin, and yet a better human being that most 'normal' people he'd met out there.

The boy smirked and stared back at the dishes as they magically got filled with well-prepared food. No-one looked surprised and started digging, so he imitated them. He'd have to ask what the cook put in the sauce that made it so tasty. He liked to know who prepared his food anyway.

Conversations flooded over but he paid no attention to them and with the answers he had given earlier and his aloof attitude, no-one was eager to engage with him either. He finished his meal quietly, musing over what would tomorrow bring. If the school didn't live up to his expectations, he decided he would quit after a few months and enter a music school like he had originally planned.

_**Hogwarts, **__**Headmaster's office**_

Snape breathed in deeply to sooth the irritation he felt inside. Ten years ago, Lily, his childhood friend, his first love, had died, leaving him heartbroken with nothing but memories to hold onto. He had tried to get over her, really, but the news of her murder had destroyed him. He wasn't overly upset by the loss of Potter himself, but the kidnapping of the youngest member of the family had shaken him. The child was Lily's son, a part of her he could have grown to accept. On the other hand, that child was Potter's too, so maybe not accepted, but tolerated. But whoever had the boy had vanished to some unknown location and Black had been as quiet as a tomb on the subject. Still, a part of him had hoped to see that lost boy attending Hogwarts, but no Potter had been Sorted tonight.

Dumbledore of course, had been tight-lipped about the whole matter, which didn't help his mood at all. And on top of that, the headmaster had asked him to come to his office to 'discuss' something while he perfectly knew his potion teacher would not be inclined to listen to whatever he had to say. Snape had long ago accepted that the old wizard was the greatest of his century, but he resented being ordered around like a lackey. But he wouldn't leave Hogwarts. It has become his home for the past ten years.

"You called, headmaster?" he asked once the entrance was granted, not bothering to hide his annoyance. Dumbledore nodded and gave him one of his grandfatherly smiles that unnerved him so much.

"Yes, and thank you for coming so quickly. I have a favor to ask of you; would you keep an eye on Professor Quirrell please?"

"The new DADA teacher?" Dumbledore nodded. "Fine. Anything else?" he asked sarcastically.

"Actually, yes. Could you send young Yakov Romanov to my office immediately?"

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Yakov Romanov?" he repeated.

"Yes, he was sorted in your house tonight. He had a long conversation with the Hat."

The potion master vaguely remembered the dark-haired boy and his indignant face as the Hat had screamed his house. He himself hadn't paid attention, too busy hiding how defeated he actually felt.

"Why?"

The old man caressed his beard absentmindedly, already deep in thoughts.

"I suspect Yakov Romanov is not his real name." he said, and the next sentence shocked Snape: "Harry Potter might still be alive after all."

_**3 days later, Paris**_

Natalia hadn't gone to Paris for a while, so she was quite sure the apartment she kept as a safehouse hadn't been compromised. At first glance, given the layers of dust, she was right. No bugs, no cameras, just books and abandoned furniture. But she wasn't satisfied all the same.

She had chosen this one for the location; not too far from public transportation for Yasha, next to a shopping center for the groceries, fourth floor next to the fire escape. It contained a living room, a kitchenette, two small bedrooms…a little small perhaps, but big enough for an adult and a child. The escape routes were easily accessible and the security good enough with her reinforcements, but she didn't feel comfortable.

Her tail had vanished the previous day. Natalia wished she could give the credit to her skills, but she knew better. Whoever had been following her had backed off for some reason and it made her uneasy. She'd have to cover her tracts even more cautiously from now on. This place was a good start. If she was lucky, she could keep it a few weeks and –

The window of the living room exploded and an arrow embedded itself in the nearest mirror. Natalia barely had the time to catch the blinking dot on the head before it detonated.

The blow sent her flying against the nearest wall but not hard enough to knock her out. She hastily grabbed her guns and ran out of the room, ready to bolt out through the door. Unfortunately, she wasn't alone anymore. A man dressed in black was standing in the corridor, a bow in hand, arrow in place ready to shoot. A quick glance at the remains of the window's glass coming from the kitchen and she knew he had likely jumped off the opposite building and through that opening to sneak in.

"Don't move," the man ordered coldly. "Drop the weapons."

If she tried anything now, he would release the arrow and even she wouldn't be able to dodge it. Her head was spinning a little thanks to the blast and she was in no state to take him down now. Cursing herself for letting her guard down momentarily, Natalia obeyed and threw her guns on the floor. The man didn't want her dead right away, or she'd already be.

"Back against the wall," he ordered again. And she obeyed again, raising her hands in a defensive posture. She still subtly pushed her breasts forward and bit her lower lip. Any trick likely to distract him would come in handy now.

"What does the mighty Hawkeye wants with me?" she asked in her best husky and purring tone. The man barely blinked.

"You know my name." It wasn't a question, but she replied nonetheless:

"Not many colleagues use a bow nowadays." A charming smile grew over her features. "Now maybe we can settle whatever grudge you have against me without your blood staining the carpet."

"You are in no position to make a deal," Hawkeye said briskly. "I only have one question and you better answer it." She nodded like an obedient little girl. "Where is the boy?"

* * *

**On a side note, "Ты всю малину испортил!" actually means 'you spoiled the strawberries' (unless I've misunderstood?) which is an equivalent to spoilsport**.

**Till next time :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello everyone :D! Sorry for the wait, I'll try to go faster next time ^^" (although it might be improbable…)**

**Thanks to:**

**Guests**

**Drrakos**: Thank you :) I hope you'll like what follows ^^

**Elle: **Sorry to disappoint, but I like Hogwarts :P

**Lisou  
**

**Thanks to KatHarkness-Katara for beta-ing :)**

**I don't own Harry Potter or the Avengers (too bad :P). Enjoy :) -won't blame you if you don't.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"What boy?" Natalia asked innocently.

An arrow suddenly brushed her face and embedded itself in the wall behind, pinning her hair with it. Before she could blink, he had another one ready to fire. Natalia glared at him, knowing he had missed on purpose.

"Don't fuck with me," the archer replied, tone cool but deadly angry. "The black-haired boy you dropped in the middle of King's Cross with that redhead family. Who is he?"

_Shit_. So he _had_ been following them inside King's Cross. Natalia should have known accompanying Yasha while she was observed might bring attention on him. But she had never expected whoever issued the order to be after her boy.

"Intel says he's been with you for quite a while." He went on slowly, aware of her growing unease. "Now once again, where is the boy?"

Natalia thought quickly and set for the truth, although it might be perceived for a lie.

"Boarding school."

Surprisingly, Hawkeye tensed even further, his fear seemingly having been confirmed: his prey was out of reach.

"Boarding school?" he snorted, anger twisting his mouth into an ugly grimace. "You sent him to the Red Room?"

Oh. _Oh_. Natalia blinked in understanding. Did he think she had been _training_ Yasha? It made sense, she supposed. She had defected over twenty years ago and had burned the main facilities to the ground on the way out with a little bit of help. She had intended to bury them –and had done enough damage to weaken them for awhile. But if they were back into the game, and _had_ she been loyal to them, Hawkeye –or whoever he was working for- would have good reasons to be worried. Thankfully, the mere thought of abandoning Yasha to her former instructors made her sick. It left her wondering if Hawkeye coming after them was a result of finding out about Yasha, or if Yasha's presence had been detected _after_ deep investigation and surveillance.

"He's just a kid I was paid to keep an eye on," she replied eventually; which was basically true.

"And yet you still haven't given up his name or his location." Hawkeye pointed out, his voice even but suspicious. "What's your interest to keep his identity a secret if he's just a job?"

She kept quiet. Any other assassin would have starting to lose patience by now, but the archer remained still in his position, arrow ready to be loosed. Natalia figured he either desperately wanted to find a potential trail on the Red Room's location, or save the boy from becoming a Black Widow. Or rather, a Black Widower. She snorted internally; highly doubting the archer would find a magical castle in Scotland. In the meantime, her head was clearing from the pain and she remembered the not-so-innocent pins in her hair. The moment he got distracted, showed _any_ sign of moving, she'd jump on him and slit his throat and…

A sudden thought occurred to her.

"The Red Room is emerging again?" she asked cautiously, but feeling the hints of fear creeping in.

Hawkeye stared at her intensely. She could see the wheels turning in his mind, pondering if she was truly unaware or if he was just following an old trail for nothing. It was impossible not to read her name if one got interested in the Red Room. She had been their greatest pride, after all. The thought of that organization's rebirth and Hawkeye's worry over Yasha's situation gave her an uneasy feeling. His mere presence here informed her that, yes, there was a great possibility that her old mentors were still alive and active. That brought up a new series of questions. What if the Red Room found out about Yasha? What if they went after him? What if they decided to take revenge on her by…

"Who do you work for? Who else knows?" she demanded hastily. Natalia needed to know how many people were likely to be aware of Yasha's existence, and if she could ensure some damage control.

"None of your business," he replied, but something had shifted in his stance, as if he was starting to put the pieces together. And then came the subtle sharp inhale, the barely widening in his eyes as realization dawn upon him.

"Wait a sec, he's _yours_? But-"

Now that was the opening she needed.

Natalia plunged forwards, leaving behind a bunch of red hair and an arrow stuck in the wall. She moved fast enough to avoid any arrow fired in her direction and pounced on the assassin. Hawkeye cursed, fired wide and used his bow to counter her fists. She caught the bow, brought him to her and aimed for his groin. He jumped back just in time and then forwards, using his weight to unbalance her. Natalia held him back with one hand, the other reaching for one of her longer-than-necessary iron pins. A subtle twist of her body and change of balance and she sent him against the wall. The edge of her pin was fast firm against his neck. Hawkeye stopped moving, well aware she would push the thing into his throat if he attempted a move. And what a ridiculous death it would be, killed by a hair accessory.

"Who do you work for?" she hissed, pressing her pin against his skin. The archer narrowed his eyes at her angrily. Natalia was well aware that she was breathing too hard, that her eyes might be giving away the slight panic she felt inside. But her hand did not tremble, and she was certain he had noted it too. If the man was smart, he'd know giving up the name would let him live longer.

"Ever heard of SHIELD, sweetheart?" he hissed with a grin-grimace on his face.

SHIELD. Natalia felt a drop of sweat pearling down her temple. She had gotten on _SHIELD's_ radar?

The secret organization was a secret for all but a few and she had kept clear of their area of expertise to ensure they wouldn't see her as a threat. SHIELD was rumored to be powerful and resourceful but also, and that was a _fact_, fighting for the greater good. It wasn't impossible that Hawkeye had been sent on her trace to find out if she was still working for the Red Room, had made the wrong assumption about Yasha, and had decided to act in accordance to the circumstances.

"I have a deal." she eventually said, releasing slightly the pressure on his throat. Hawkeye was still glaring, but was apparently listening. "I have outdated information on the Red Room, but it might still be useful." Natalie couldn't believe she was about to do this; playing on Yasha's safety by admitting his connection to her openly. "I will tell you what I know if you hire me. I can't protect _him_ alone against them."

And Hawkeye just stared at her in silence. In a sign of goodwill, she stepped back, dropped the pin and raised her hands in defense. If he agreed to take her with him, she would use their resources to terminate the Red Room once and for all. If he didn't and decided to finish his job…well, once Yasha found out his real name, Hawkeye wouldn't have long to live.

"You love him," he eventually said. "That kid."

Natalia didn't reply and waited. She figured her silence was enough anyway. Hawkeye stared intensely at her for a moment, undecided. He eventually relaxed his shoulders in turn. His hand was still edging towards his bow, but at least he wasn't openly hostile anymore.

"You," he said with a deep sigh, "owe me _**big**_ time."

**Hogwarts, Slytherin Common room**

Classes had begun and after three days, Yasha already had an idea which ones would be worth taking an interest in. History of Magic was proven to be useless, so was studying the sky and learning planets' names –Natalia had already taught him the important parts. Herbology might be practical if he ever needed to recognize the plants for a potion. Potion classes were to start the next day with the Gryffindors, so he had yet to have an opinion. Although if they were with this Professor Snape, they might end up being somewhat worthwhile. He seemed to be an interesting fellow, and Yasha loved the way he flapped his cape when walking. Also, the man hadn't opposed _headmaster_ _Dumbledork_ when Yasha had snapped at him the other night, but he hadn't sided with the senile goat either. Yasha tagged him 'neutral party' for the time being.

Earlier today, they had their first Transfiguration class with the elderly teacher, Professor McGonagall. Now _that_ class would definitively be of use and Master Pietor had never shown him how to transfigure, so this was complete novelty. Except that Yasha had miserably failed his first exercise of turning a match into a needle. He refused to use wandless magic in class in order to blend in, and waving his wand had made him feel stupid. So he had pretended to concentrate on the exercise and at the end of the class, slipped his match in his pocket for later training. And now there he was, in an isolated part of the common room, trying to practice his apparently non-existent transfiguration skills.

Yasha waved his wand for the umpteenth time and hissed the spell. Nothing happened. He glared at the match. The harmless piece of wood remained unchanged.

"Fine," he muttered, setting his wand aside. "What is the problem here?"

He pressed his finger on the top of the match. As he whispered the words again, his finger slid over the object and the small wooden piece turned into silver. The edges weren't quite pointy but the change was definitively there. When Yasha retrieved his hand, the transfiguration held on and he smirked in victory and relief. Nothing was wrong with his magic, he just couldn't use his wand. Now that was problematic, especially since he had no intention of showing his hand at wandless.

Yasha sighed heavily. Of course, he could probably _pretend_ to use his wand. Lifting and moving objects around would be easy: he only needed to raise his arm and wave his hand. But the rest would need more practice. See the recent example; physical contact was necessary for a halfway decent transfiguration. Not to mention the other things he could do that required his whole body to work. Take his 'shield'. No bullet could go through it, but he needed to be curled into a ball for it to be truly efficient…

Yasha put the match and his wand back in his pocket, shoving those thoughts away. Time for violin he decided. Since he has arrived at Hogwarts, he had yet to practice. Now was the perfect moment to do so.

He returned to his dormitory and retrieved the case holding his instrument. He shrunk it with his magic by tightening his fist till it reached the size of a dice and placed it safely in his inside pocket. Then he headed out, firmly determined to find a more comfortable and _isolated_ place to practice.

Yasha was going through an empty corridor and pondering over a few options when he overhead some students speaking in a quiet tone:

"…sure it's allowed? I don't want troubles."

"We're doing nothing wrong. C'mon."

Out of the corner of the eye, he caught three first years Slytherin trying to act as natural as possible. Never to be said Yasha wasn't curious –because much to Natalia's annoyance, he was –so he did the first thing that came into mind. He followed them.

**Hogwarts, Headmaster's office.**

Dumbledore was puzzled. Honest-to-God puzzled. In a way, it amused Severus; he rarely saw the mighty wizard upset. The reunion with Yakov Romanov/maybe Potter hadn't gone as he had expected and it was eating him up inside. Dumbledore wasn't angry, per say, but he disliked when something or someone disrupted his plans. The Potion Master hid his smirk as he recalled the event one more time:

_Snape's robe flapped as he walked __through__ the corridor determinedly. He ignored the ghosts and occasional teacher he passed by, only focused on Dumbedore's latest request._

"Could you bring young Yakov Romanov to my office Severus? I suspect 'Yakov Romanov' is not his real name. Harry Potter might still be alive after all."

_If the headmaster was right, and Snape had little doubt he wasn't, then the wizarding world was on the edge of a revolution. With Harry James Potter alive and well, celebrations would occur in the whole country; politicians would probably visit the castle; others would want to shake his hand. He was a National Icon after all, probably unaware of his inheritance and the baggage that came with it._

_He hurried his footsteps__and soon arrived in the Slytherin Common Room. The newly arrived first years were already settling comfortably__after an introduction speech given by a Prefect__,__ and Snape glanced around. According to Dumbledore, Yakov Romanov looked a lot like James Potter, but with much longer hair. Yet, a student matching that description was nowhere to be found and Snape would never forget that impertinent and arrogant face. A Prefect arrived and asked:_

"_May I help you, professor?" _

_The Potion Master sighed in resignation and asked:_

"_Do you know where I can find Mr. Romanov? He's a first year."_

"_Yakov Romanov?" a girl's voice came from behind. Snape turned around and recognized a member of the Greengrass family. She looked slightly irritated. "He was around here a minute ago."_

"_You're looking for me sir?" _

_This time Snape nearly jumped in surprise. He was usually aware of the people around him, but he hadn't heard the boy sneak up __behind__ his back and that bothered him. But when he turned around, his voice failed him. _

_James Potter__'s__ –or rather Yakov Romanov's__ -__ face was staring at him with detachment and annoyance. The thick black hair he was expecting was still thick and black, but tied back in a short ponytail revealing an earring –a pearl? No, a round-shaped carbonado –on his left ear and when he met his eyes…his heart skipped a beat. These were Lily's eyes fixed on him. _

"_Sir? You're all right?" the boy asked, frowning now. Snape inhaled sharply._

"_Follow me__,__" __h__e ordered and turned around. The boy –Yakov Romanov –Harry Potter –obeyed wordlessly. _

_They walked out of the dungeons in silence. The only sound__s to be__ heard were their footsteps echoing in the hall. Snape never let him out of his sight. Romanov didn't look anxious or nervous, but annoyed and sleepy__,__ and comfortable showing it. Snape huffed. Self-confidence, arrogance, insensibility. He obviously hadn't inherited any of Lily's personality traits._

"_So where are you leading me?" the boy suddenly asked. _

"_We are going to the headmaster's office," Snape announced dryly. "Professor Dumbledore wants to see you."_

"_Did he tell you what for?" Romanov asked again. "Because I didn't do it."_

_Snape knew he shouldn't look too closely at those words, but he did anyway._

"_What do you think you didn't do?" _

"_The hell I know!" the boy glared. "You won't tell me why the mighty Dumbledore wants an interview with ol' little me." He paused. "I swear if he's expecting an apology for me flipping the finger, he can shove it where I think." Another pause. Romanov added grudgingly. "Sorry sir, I tend to think out loud when I'm tired. It's been a long day." _

_Flipping the finger? Snape repeated mentally in disbelief. When had that occurred? And what had Dumbledore done to trigger such a reaction from him?_

_He kept quiet in the hopes the boy would reveal something else, but after his little outburst, Romanov didn't open his mouth again. His eyes__,__ though, were flaring in anger and given the way he had just talked, Snape suspected him to be the kind of person who didn't hesitate to speak his mind. And Snape realized that Dumbledore might have greatly underestimated the boy he was expecting to meet._

_A small part of him couldn't wait to see where this would lead._

_They reached the office in complete silence, climbed the stairs to the headmaster's office and entered at the man's permission. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk when they came in, looking as welcoming as ever. Snape stepped on the side and, when Dumbledore didn't send him away, crossed his arms and waited for the clash. _

"_You asked for me, headmaster?" Romanov asked, his voice calmer than earlier. Dumbledore smiled his grandfatherly smile, which seemed to have no effect at all on the eleven year old. _

"_I did. Would you like to sit down?" _

_Romanov didn't move. _

"_Is offending a table of Pureblood__s__ or puking on a Malfoy a capital offense?" _

_The headmaster blinked in surprise. So did Snape._

"_No…" he replied slowly, amusement twinkling in his eyes. _

"_Then I didn't do whatever I'm held responsible for," Romanov declared in a no-nonsense tone. "Or if I did something wrong, it was unintentional." _

"_You've done nothing wrong__,__ my boy," Dumbledore said in a reassuring voice. The words didn't have the intended reaction: instead of soothing, Romanov tensed ever further._

"_Don't__,__" __h__e hissed, narrowing his eyes at the old man. "You are not family, but a member of the educational system. Therefore, do not call me 'my boy'. I am not your son and I do not belong to you." _

_That stunned Dumbledore into silence. Snape hesitated between cheering or scowling. The boy had an attitude, but unlike James Potter, his impertinence seemed to rely on a…sort of desire to set boundaries. Students and adults, no matter if they were muggles or wizards, friends or foe, always stood in respect towards Dumbledore at the first meeting, if only for his past accomplishments. First years students in particular, easily fell for his slightly odd but inoffensive appearance. But for some reasons, Romanov had immediately adopted mistrust and belligerence. _

Really_, Snape wondered,_ what had Dumbledore done?

"_I apologize," Dumbledore eventually said. Romanov still didn't move a muscle. "And I apologize for my behavior during the Sorting Ceremony. It was most inappropriate from me."_

"_You bet," the boy muttered under his breath. "Do you do that with every student or am I the special case?"_

_Dumbledore sighed heavily, suddenly looking very old._

"_You reminded me of the child of __some __friends of mine. They died a long time ago and I have no knowledge __of what has become of their son. __He would be your age nowadays."_

_Romanov narrowed his eyes in displease. _Did the boy have any idea who the headmaster was talking about?_ Snape wondered again._

"_My condolences for your friends, but couldn't you have just asked instead of trying to mind-rape me?" __T__he potion master stared at the older man in shock. "That was tacky and stupid and very beneath a man with your reputation." Now Snape stared at the child in amazement; was he _only_ eleven year__s__ old, to speak in such a way? He talked like a young adult, not a child. And had he just admitted __to __having felt Dumbledore's intrusion? "Never, ever do that again, or I will go straight to the…authorities." He added firmly, also biting back an odd repressed smirk. "Now was there something else or can I return to my dormitory?"_

_Another thing became obvious at the very moment: Dumbledore had no control over the situation. The boy's trust had never been close to be won over tonight, and if Dumbledore attempted to coax him too soon, it would never occur again. There was a chance that if he brought up the Harry Potter case, Romanov might __not __only not believe him, but get even more defensive and reject him entirely. And if he did know about the Harry Potter case, he might suspect the old man to have a hidden agenda. Even Snape, who prided himself in being quite perceptive, had no idea how Romanov would react. The best outcome would __be that __he__ would__ agree to cooperate. The worst, and Snape suspected the boy to be capable of it, would __be that __he__ would __leave the school at once. And that would not suit Dumbledore at all._

"_That will be all. Thank you, Mister Romanov__,__" __t__he headmaster said, even though Snape could see the wheels turning in his head. The old man would retreat for now, but he would definitively come back at the right time._

If Romanov hadn't snapped at Dumbledore for the Legilimency use on him, Snape would have definitively torn him a new one. What was he thinking, invading a young student's mind like that? Still, he was intrigued by the fact the boy had caught the headmaster. Dumbledore was one of the most powerful Legilimens he had ever know, aside perhaps from Voldemort. That could only mean that either the boy had natural high mental barriers or he had been trained to keep barriers up. Or perhaps even both. Now that was an interesting thing to keep in mind.

"I think another visit to Sirius Black is necessary. He must have known from the start what Harry would become," Dumbledore said, catching Snape's attention again. He raised determined and wary eyes and met the potion master's. "I fear he wanted to groom a new dark wizard."

Before Snape could reply the idea was perhaps a bit far-fetched, and that Romanov's distrust was entirely due to _his_ bad move, a portrait announced the presence of two Slytherin students outside his office, wishing to speak to him urgently. Dumbledore agreed to let them in, probably figuring Snape could take over the matter if needed.

But when the door barged open and an odd pair, Daphne Greengrass and Aengus Perlancott, ran in, faces red from running and out of breath. Dumbledore straightened, feeling this matter would need to be taken carefully.

"It's all their fault!" Greengrass started, panting heavily. "They agreed to do it. I was not-"

"Shut up 'green grass from the hills'!" Perlancott snapped back. "It's no-one's fault. Romanov's just too crazy-"

At the name, both men tensed. Dumbledore raised a hand to require silence and spoke softly:

"Please calm down, and tell me what happened."

Perlancott inhaled sharply and blurted:

"We lost Romanov, sir."

And before Dumbledore could ask him to explain further, Greengrass added darkly:

"He disappeared in the Forbidden Forest."


End file.
